Wide Open
by Ethiwen
Summary: A 3part MarkRoger songfic with songs MyDsmbr by Linkin Park, The Reason by Hoobastank and Wide Open by Alana Davis. Part Three up. Back from hiatus! COMPLETE!
1. Someone to Come Home to

Wide Open

By: Ethiwen

Disclaimer: Still don't own RENT or the characters of said show. It all belongs to the late (and great!) Jonathon Larson. "MyDsmbr" belongs to Linkin Park.

Summary: The first part of a three-part Post-RENT MarkRoger songfic. Markcentric--goes along with "MyDsmbr" by Linkin Park. After a heated argument, Mark takes a walk to clear his head and finds his mind wandering to a certain songwriter….and returns with new clarification.

Ships: MarkRoger. Don't like it, don't read it. Simple as that. Mentions of MimiRoger, AprilRoger

Warnings: Boy loving boy. Probably some mouth. Mentions of adult topics.

Song lyrics in (((_italics and parentheses)))_ Thoughts and flashbacks in _italics_ only.

Spoilers: Mimi died of AIDS. April committed suicide. This is post-RENT, so Angel has passed on. Didn't know that? Go watch the show…Listen to the soundtrack…anything.

Author's Notes: Ahhh the plotbunnies attack again. So I heard these three songs and went "-gasp-omgmarkroger!" so they formulated a story…and well…here's the first. I hope you like it!

Thanks go out to The Versatile Scarf, AngstyRebel and Amaen for encouraging me and helping me finally get this out.

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Chapter 1: Someone to Come Home to

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_(((This is my December _

_This is my time of the year _

_This is my December _

_This is all so clear)))_

Mark sat on the cold bench, snow falling softly around him. He stared off into space, head hot and hands cold. He wished he had thought to grab gloves. He laughed in spite of himself. With the hurry he had left in, he was glad he had never taken his scarf off. He hadn't thought to, the commotion had started as soon as he got in the door.

"_The Commotion"._ Mark thought dismally. _What an adequate nickname for him._

_Mark had come home to find suitcases on the couch and Roger rummaging through the drawers in his room. Packing._

"_Roger?" Mark called tentatively._

"_Mark. You're home early."_

"_Rog…what…what is all this. You're not…you can't be…not again, Rog."_

"_Mark, I am. I'm leaving. Maybe for good this time. You weren't supp--"_

"_And what -was- I supposed to do, huh? Come home to find an empty loft and a note explaining how sorry you were and how you never meant for this to happen?" His voice rose slightly. "Huh, Rog? Is that what I was supposed to do? After all these years--"_

"_Shit happens, Mark!" He paused, reigned in his emotion and softened his voice, "I have to leave. It'll be better for everyone if I do. Better for me, better for--"_

"_--you? You think this will be a better arrangement for me Roger? After all the shit we've been through and you think I'll be better off without you?" Mark lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "Without my best-friend?"_

"_What've I ever been to you, Mark? What've I ever done for you? You'll be better off without me around…"_

"_Roger, do you know what you mean to me?!?" Mark spoke slowly and evenly, fearing to let a tremor in his voice show how vulnerable this was making him. He had to be calm and rational; and even with Roger leaving, he was still 'The Rock' " Of course not. Of fucking course not, because then you wouldn't even think--" _

"_And what -do- I mean to you, Mark? What could I possibly mean--"_

"_Everything! You mean -everything- to me, Rog. I lo--" Mark froze._

"_You what?" Roger whispered._

_Mark bolted. Out of the loft and into the cold, he was going nowhere fast._

And now here he was sitting on a bench in Central park. Alone.

_(((This is my December_

_This is my snow covered home_

_This is my December_

_This is me alone)))_

Completely and utterly alone in a city of millions. Ironically it was a reason Mark liked the city. It provided a certain anonymity…a certain…obscurity that was perfect for his work. He could watch others without being seen.

For him though, it also offered comfort. Never one to hog the spotlight, he preferred to blend into the background, subtly becoming invisible. He put up his barriers in this way. Roger retreated to his room, Mimi had retreated to her smack, Joanne to her work, Maureen to random strangers. Angel and Collins had retreated to each other.

Mark retreated from reality.

Mark smirked, seeing the way this fit together. The rest retreated -to- something. They found consolation with something or someone else. One might even call it a relationship. Mark retreated -from- things. He withdrew to the point of detachedness, never really finding a haven, never feeling that relief. He was constantly on the run.

But from what?

Why was he always so afraid, and what was he afraid of?

_(((And I  
Just wish that I didn't feel  
Like there was something I missed  
And I  
Take back all the things I said  
To make you feel like that  
And I  
Just wish that I didn't feel  
Like there was something I missed  
And I  
Take back all the things I said to you)))_

Maybe he was running from his guilt.

Roger had said that he was leaving because it would be better for Mark. Roger's concern was causing him to uproot himself when he had finally accepted Mimi's death. He was finally able to see beyond his own death sentence and Mark had to screw it up. Mark had to make Roger worried. He was so -selfish-.

Mark thought back to the last time Roger had left.

Santa Fe.

That had been his fault too. There was still a chance. Roger might have stayed. But then Mark's mouth had gotten the better of him.

"_Mimi still loves Roger. Is Roger really jealous or afraid that Mimi's weak?"_

"_Mimi did look pale," Roger commented mournfully._

"_Mimi's gotten thin. Mimi's running out of time. Roger's running out the door," Mark continued, blurting words of long-contained bitterness._

"_No more! Oh no," Roger pleaded. "I've gotta go."_

_But even then Mark couldn't stop his mouth. "Hey, for somebody who's always been let down, who's heading out of town?"_

It was then that he had crossed the line--crossed the line, and the point of no return.

Roger was gone.

Mimi left the family for the clinic after Roger went. And although he felt awful for it, Mark couldn't honestly say he missed her. He didn't miss the pangs of jealousy he felt when she and Roger were together, he didn't miss the sleepless nights that the pair caused him when Mimi stayed the night at the loft, and he certainly didn't miss feeling like a damned third-wheel.

But he felt at fault for her death all he same.

It was in Mark's nature to take responsibility for everything. Though he never showed it, he took everything to heart. He felt that by not following up on Mimi, by causing Roger to go, and by not caring enough to miss her, he had hastened her death. He was blindsided by his own jealousy, when her should've been concerned for her.

He was so fucking -self-centered-.

And by quickening her passing, he had caused Roger pain. Roger, who Mark would give his life for.

But this time it was Mark who inadvertently caused the hurt.

_(((And I'd give it all away  
Just to have somewhere to go to  
Give it all away  
To have someone to come home to)))_

Mark shivered. He blew on his hands and rubbed them together in an attempt to regain some warmth. But it was no use. The cold was too strong.

Mark smiled remembering the night when he and Roger burned every paper in sight to get some damn heat. But the fire wasn't the only thing that set Mark alight that evening. Mark had seen a glimpse of the old Roger, before April, before Drugs, before AIDS. His passionate spirit had returned. His green eyes had glinted with cause and purpose and intensity. And though he'd never tell Roger, the musician had looked so -beautiful-, Mark's pale cheeks dusted with a pink glow and it wasn't from the heat.

That was the first time Mark had recognized his feelings for his roommate. Roger was just so alive, and vibrant, and raw, and honest, and everything Mark wasn't. He was everything Mark needed to complete himself. And through Roger he found his own source of passion and courage…he had decided to tell Roger, no matter the consequence.

And then Mimi danced into their lives.

She was good for Roger. She taught him how to recapture the passion in each and every moment. She kept him busy, not allowing him to mope around. She'd flash her bright smile, and she'd renew Roger's sense of wonder.

She caused Mark to shut down.

When Mark fell for Roger he was ready to be in love. He had broken up with Maureen, who was never really a lover but more of a distraction, and he was finally ready to let his guard down. He had finally found a haven to run to. He was going to allow himself to feel again.

After Mimi and Roger became a couple, Mark used Maureen as an obsessive lie. As long as he pretended to still be fixated on her, he could detach himself from the jealous longings. He could remove himself from the hurt and the guilt, by simply not feeling at all, but devoting all of his energy into an idea. Unfortunately, this pretense had its disadvantages.

_(((This is my December  
These are my snow covered dreams  
This is me pretending  
This is all I need)))  
_

When Mark smiled it longer reached his eyes. It had been a long time since had really felt happy. But for Roger's sake he pretended. If Roger was happy, the Mark could be okay--even if he was hurting or troubled, if Roger was good, then Mark could be too.

Or he could imagine he was.

Mark lived in a fantasy most of his waking moments. His life became a series of trances; he slipped in and out of reality as he so chose. He had frozen his true emotions for so long he wasn't even sure they were there anymore. He hollowed himself, creating a deep void, in an effort to ensure Roger's bliss.

The line between his dreams and his life was slowly blurring.

_(((And I  
Just wish that I didn't feel  
Like there was something I missed  
And I  
Take back all the things I said  
To make you feel like that  
And I  
Just wish that I didn't feel  
Like there was something I missed  
And I  
Take back all the things I said to you)))  
_

And yet he was constantly hurting the person he loved most.

And now, Roger knew how Mark felt.

Now Roger would most definitely leave.

Mark's accidental confession had probably made Roger uncomfortable, it had probably insulted him. No not only would he leave, he'd probably never call or write or visit either. It no longer mattered how Mark would face him after the secret was spilled.

Mark would never see Roger again.

_(((And I'd give it all away  
Just to have somewhere to go to  
Give it all away  
To have someone to come home to_

_This is my December  
This is my time of the year  
This is my December_

_This is all so clear)))_

It didn't matter…so why shouldn't he face him? Mark was sick of lying. He was sick of pretending. If Roger was going to leave anyway, he might as well know the truth.

What was the worst that could happen? Roger would leave? Wasn't Roger already leaving?

So what was the point, anyway, of keeping up the pretense? His secret was out. Roger already knew.

And maybe if he finally let his barriers down, Roger would finally see.


	2. The Reason is You

Wide Open

By: Ethiwen

Disclaimer: Still don't own RENT or the characters of said show. It all belongs to the late (and great!) Jonathon Larson. "The Reason" belongs to Hoobastank.

Summary: The second part of a three-part MarkRoger songfic. Rogercentric--goes along with "The Reason" by Hoobastank. After a heated argument, Roger is left alone in the loft to think.

Ships: MarkRoger. Don't like it, don't read it. Simple as that. Mentions of MimiRoger, AprilRoger, MarkMaureen.

Warnings: Boy loving boy. Probably some mouth. Mentions of adult topics. (Suicide, drugs, AIDS, death, etc.)

Song lyrics in (((_italics and parentheses)))_ Thoughts and flashbacks in _italics_ only.

Spoilers: Mimi died of AIDS. April committed suicide. This is post-RENT, so Angel has passed on. Didn't know that? Go watch the show…Listen to the soundtrack…anything.

Author's Notes: Ahhh the plotbunnies attack again. So I heard these three songs and went "-gasp-omgmarkroger!" And my plotbunnies don't ask nicely to be written…they demand.

I know I've been slow getting this out, forgive me. I've been swamped lately. Rehearsal three to four times a week for CATS and lots of homework…it's been ludicrous. Thanks for sticking with me. Here's the second part. Hope you like it!

Thanks to Amaen and The Versatile Scarf for feedback and to all you lovelies who have reviewed and… -clears throat-… will review…please?

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Chapter 2: The Reason is you

---------------------

_(((I'm not a perfect person  
There's many things I wish I didn't do  
But I continue learning  
I never meant to do those things to you  
And so I have to say before I go  
That I just want you to know)))_

Roger realized he loved Mark. He realized that he was following the same path that he had taken before, quick changes, sudden passion--impetuous actions. He realized that he always damaged the ones he loved; the ones he loved always ended up hurt, or worse--they ended up gone. He needed to protect Mark.

So he tried to run.

And just like that he had fucked up again.

It was supposed to be non-confrontational. It was supposed to be the easiest way for both of them. No words, no tears, no goodbyes. It was supposed to be an open ended run to nowhere, leaving only a note and an apology. Only a "Dear Mark, I'm sorry but this is best for the both of us. I don't know if I'll be back. Take care of yourself."

Supposed to be wasn't to be.

Caught red-handed packing his things, Roger could only stammer clichés and halfhearted excuses.

"_Roger?" _

_Oh shit. "Mark. You're home early…" he began_

"_Rog…what…what is all this. You're not…you can't be…not again, Rog."_

"_Mark, I am." he paused knowing that lying would do no good. "I'm leaving. Maybe for good this time. You weren't supp--"_

"_And what -was- I supposed to do, huh? Come home to find an empty loft and a note explaining how sorry you were and how you never meant for this to happen?" As Mark's voice rose, Roger realized he had never seen his roommate look this desperate, this angry. "Huh, Rog? Is that what I was supposed to do? After all these years--"_

"_Shit happens, Mark!" He paused, feeling slightly guilty for yelling when Mark was so calm. How the hell did he manage? Roger tried to reign in his emotion and softened his voice, "I have to leave. It'll be better for everyone if I do. Better for me, better for--"_

"_--you? You think this will be a better arrangement for me Roger? After all the shit we've been through and you think I'll be better off without you?" Mark was almost whispering now. "Without my best-friend?"_

_Some best friend he was. He was so selfish all the time. And when he finally was trying to do good for Mark, it had backfired. "What've I ever been to you, Mark? What've I ever done for you? You'll be better off without me around…"_

"_Roger, do you know what you mean to me?!?" Mark spoke slowly. "Of course not. Of fucking course not, because then you wouldn't even think--" _

"_And what -do- I mean to you, Mark? What could I possibly mean–"_

"_Everything! You mean -everything- to me, Rog. I lo--" Mark froze._

"_You what?" Roger whispered. It wasn't possible. It wasn't possible that Mark could love him; it wasn't possible that there had been no reason for Roger to leave at all._

_Mark bolted._

Roger was left wondering.

_(((I've found a reason for me  
To change who I used to be  
A reason to start over new  
and the reason is you)))_

Roger was left wondering about the scrawny filmmaker who had been his best friend since his arrival in the lower east side.

Fed up with yuppie bullshit, Roger moved to Avenue B hoping to shed the skin of his former life. He'd lived in Manhattan all of his life, with his upper middle class parents and their upper middle class expectations. He was expected to be a future doctor or lawyer--he just wanted to play his guitar. He parents had paid to get him classically trained; he was after all supposed to be "cultured". They forced him to operas when all he wanted to do was go to CBGB's, and outlawed that "uncouth noise" within there house.

That was when "Musetta's Waltz" became his anthem.

La Bohème was the first opera Roger had ever identified with. It glorified the bohemian lifestyle he secretly idolized. Roger wanted so much just to live for art they way they did. There was no difference between "culture" and "noise"…all art was beautiful no matter the medium. Roger decided that night that he was leaving.

That was the night he had run into Mark.

Mark had met him at the pinnacle of his rebirth, at CBGB's. The pale blonde was behind a camera on a tripod, filming that night's band. Roger had entered and asked if he could stand next to him to watch. The filmmaker was on a platform and had the best view in the house. The stranger had consented. Roger had made witty commentary about the band and Mark had replied amusedly. Mark offered Roger a place to stay.

They had been fast friends ever since.

Mark had been through everything that mattered with Roger. Mark had inducted Roger into Bohemia. He had been his comfort when April died. He had been there when he confronted his mortality in the form of the Human immunodeficiency virus--a death certificate scrawled on a tattered piece of paper and taped on the mirror in a bloody bathroom--the day he realized he wasn't invincible. He had been there when Roger went through withdrawal, when the tremors and chills got too much to handle; Mark had remained the only comfort and stay when he was imprisoned in the porcelain filled room that April died in. It had been Mark's arms holding him close and Marks's voice whispering soft half-coherent promises that Roger had clung to. Mark became Roger's hope. Mark was the only one who had stayed to see Roger well.

He had gotten too much for Benny to handle. Benny had found a safe-haven with "Muffy" and her rich daddy. He had abandoned Bohemia and all it's ideals to find a safe place where Roger's tremors could no longer shake his world. Coward.

Collins had to go. He was the only one of them who could make any money at all. And he had decided that even if it meant he had to play into the system, AZT and food money was worth it. He decided that keeping them alive was worth it. Roger didn't resent him for his decision.

And though he'd never admit he had missed the philosopher.

Maureen was Maureen. Self-absorbed and never home, you couldn't ever expect any comfort from her.

Mark had been his solace when Mimi died shortly after they found her in the park. He had been his consolation when Collins had died four moths later; he hadn't made it very far without his Angel. Mark kept him grounded, focused on living his life to the fullest, and carefully avoiding that he didn't have much time left. It was Mark that kept him alive, Mark that kept him moving. No matter the situation, Mark understood.

Mark always understood.

_(((I'm sorry that I hurt you  
It's something I must live with everyday  
And all the pain I put you through  
I wish that I could take it all away  
And be the one who catches all your tears  
That's why I need you to hear)))_

But Roger never understood Mark. When he truly thought about it, he had never acted in Mark's best interest, or really even thought about Mark's best interest might be. All his attempts at "doing what was best for Mark" had been subtle ways of making his own ideas seem like a good idea for Mark. His immaturity and ego led him to focus on himself rather than others. Because of this, he rarely perceived emotions of others. He had recently realized just how much he took the filmmaker for granted. He had noticed that Mark always asked how he was, but he never thought to reply "How are you, Mark?" He had noticed that he blew up to Mark, telling him what was wrong, what could be wrong, how mad, angry, depressed, upset, excited he was. But not once had Mark ever come to him, or had he approached Mark, just to find out how his life was going. He unburdened all of his problems on the pale blonde, never caring to search for hurt or weariness in the ice blue eyes. But he had seen it now.

Roger thought he had to do something good for Mark for once. He had seen the pain in his best-friend's eyes, and knew he couldn't burden him once again with his own interests at heart. His love for the filmmaker would have to be kept secret, no matter the cost to himself. Roger did the only thing he knew how. He ran.

And by running he had hurt Mark worse.

Once again he had gilded his own interests in the ideal of "good for Mark". And this time the hurt that he caused was obvious.

_(((I've found a reason for me  
To change who I used to be  
A reason to start over new  
and the reason is you)))_

But there was something about Mark that made Roger want to learn how to be compassionate. He wanted so much to offer Mark the comfort Mark offered him. He wanted to hold the filmmaker close and share in his secrets. He wanted to know and become a part of his hopes. He wanted to silence Mark's fears with reassurance whispered into his ear. He wanted to give all of himself up to Mark; he finally desired to be open and honest with his best-friend.

Mark made him want to be a better person.

_(((And the reason is you)))_

He wanted Mark to finally be able to open up to him.

He had known Mark for so long, yet he still seemed a stranger to Roger. And Roger had become attracted to the man behind the façade. He had realized his love for Mark when Angel had been with them. She had opened him up. Roger grinned; remembering the night Mark forgot his timid front and danced on the tables at the Life. In the cheap lighting of the bohemian café, Mark had never looked more beautiful with the silly smile on his face finally reaching his eyes. In that moment he had seen what Mark kept inside.

In that moment, Roger Davis fell in love with his best-friend.

_(((And the reason is you)))_

Ever since that moment a simple touch or a casual glance would set Roger's senses on fire. Sometimes he imagined that Mark could feel it too. That Mark could feel the heat surge between their bodies as they brushed past each other in the kitchen; that he could feel the spark that lit as their eyes met from across the room. He attempted to deny these feelings. He would tell himself over and over "I'm not gay, I don't love Mark." but the truth was that when he was with Mark he was the happiest he'd ever been. Most people assumed Mimi was the cause of this joy…Roger willed himself to believe it. And he was happy with Mimi…and he did love her. She had helped him finally get out of the loft, and taught him how to love life again. She was one of the best friends he had ever had. But he was not in love with her.

He knew that she was in love with him. He wanted to make good, and knowing Mark was out of reach, he cared for Mimi. He tried to help her beat her addiction, and they were affectionate. Everyone always assumed they'd been lovers…they never had. Not in the literal sense of the word. Roger always told her that he wasn't ready.

That was probably one reason she went back to Benny.

They had parted ways after that fateful Christmas Eve, and Roger became lonelier, not even having a façade anymore.

Without Mark in his arms, he was lost.

_(((And the reason is you)))_

And having him around made it worse.

Just knowing that he couldn't touch Mark's pale cheek, or kiss the lips that cocked in a quirky half-grin when something was found amusing was torture. Staring at his beautiful figure as he stumbled out of his room, barely clothed (or sometimes not clothed at all) or watching him concentrate, focused on cutting a film reel or just making a cup of coffee made Roger need him all the more. It was painful when the only thing he wanted was what he could never get.

It was worse when Mark paid attention to him. He'd sit close to Roger, or brush past him, or notice that he looked nice. He'd hug him, or put his arm on his shoulder. The way his eyes sometimes betrayed that he was glad that Roger was home.

And when he smiled it was intoxicating.

_(((I'm not a perfect person  
I never meant to do those things to you  
And so I have to say before I go  
That I just want you to know)))  
_  
Waves of guilt washed over Roger when he thought of his best friend. Mark deserved so much and received so little. Roger knew that he could never give Mark what he was worthy of.

Roger was a coward. He never could accept the inevitable. He had to do things his way and on his terms. He didn't want to leave Mark, but he knew that it was unavoidable…so he tried to cope in his own way. He decided to leave when there was still a chance of return. He would cheat death by leaving before death could take him. He was afraid of Mark seeing him weak and dying as the lesions spread over his body and he could no longer speak, he wanted Mark to remember him as his used to be, even as he was now, not what he knew he soon would be. Roger knew that his time was short––every day he took one step closer to the cemetery, one step toward his grave.

_(((I've found a reason for me  
To change who I used to be  
A reason to start over new  
and the reason is you)))_

Roger would die alone with his pride unless he changed. He realized now that it didn't matter how Mark saw him… Mark loved him for who he used to be, who he was, and who he would become…and he loved Mark more than he ever knew he could. He found new ways each day to love Mark, new reasons to love him. He wanted to die beside his best-friend, not out in the middle of nowhere.

And maybe with Mark beside him, he could focus on living instead of dying.

If Mark, really felt the way he said he did–maybe this would be a new beginning. Maybe Roger would finally find the love he'd searched for his whole life. Maybe he'd finally be whole.

He decided to brave death, fear, confusion, and whatever else was thrown out him.

With Mark beside him he could do anything.

_(((I've found a reason to show  
A side of me you didn't know  
A reason for all that I do  
And the reason is you)))_

Roger would tell Mark that he loved him.


	3. Wide Open

Wide Open

By: Ethiwen

Disclaimer: Still don't own RENT or the characters of said show. It all belongs to the late (and great!) Jonathon Larson. "Wide Open" belongs to Alana Davis

Summary: The third and final part of a three-part MarkRoger songfic. Goes along with "Wide Open" by Alana Davis… (Haven't heard of her? Look her up. She's fantastic.)

Ships: MarkRoger. Don't like it, don't read it. Simple as that. Mentions of MimiRoger, AprilRoger, MarkMaureen.

Warnings: Boy loving boy. Probably some mouth. Mentions of adult topics. (Suicide, drugs, AIDS, death, etc.)

Song lyrics in (((_italics and parentheses)))_ Thoughts and flashbacks in _italics_ only.

Spoilers: Mimi died of AIDS. April committed suicide. This is post-RENT, so Angel has passed on. Didn't know that? Go watch the show…Listen to the soundtrack…anything. In this story Collins has also passed.

Author's Notes: Sorry this took forever! I lost all inspiration for this fic until I saw Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp perform in RENT on August 8–amazing. The pinnacle of my life. The original plan was to use The Goo Goo Dolls' song "Iris", but it just didn't seem to fit anymore. So I looked for a new song–and happened upon this one–ironically titled "Wide Open" by Alana Davis…and it all just clicked. Sorry if it's a little cliché.

Special thanks go out to anyone who is still reading this…and of course, as always to TheVersatileScarf who took me to NY to see that blesséd show and of course, encouraging me to stop being a lazy facehole and to write.

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Chapter 3: Wide Open

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_(((When you look at me,  
You can tell that I'm wide open  
I put aside all my fears,  
I want to be ready for anything)))  
_

Mark began to walk towards the subway station that had taken him here, the subway station that would bring him back; back home, back to face his fears.

Back to Roger.

103 street station. _What will Roger say?_ Roger's full lips surrounded by the rough stubble Mark had come to love forming the words Mark feared most–or needed most. There was no way of going back now; there was only one way or the other. No middle ground–no no-man's-land in this war. Just safety and danger and Mark in the middle blindfolded and disoriented–blindly running toward one or the other. Brighton bound B train. How he longed to hold Roger– and not let him leave again. It was like a child seeing fire–how beautiful it was and so what if mom said it was hot and unsafe? He had to make it his, had to hold the glowing flames. How he wanted, needed to find the daring within himself to hold Roger. If Roger was fire, Mark would be his embers. When the flame died there would be nothing but ash. Mark didn't want to hold the cold dark powder and not remember the warmth. Get off at Lafayette station. Roger's eyes before Mark left. Hurt, guilt, soft confusion. A mirror of Mark's own. Is that what it was then? Did Mark just simply see himself in Roger? Walk. E. Houston Street. Avenue B. _No–I see myself through Roger. _Roger made him reckless and impulsive and beautifully dangerous. Roger made him live.

11th street. Mark breathed deeply. Home. Time to take off the blindfold.

_(((Then I lay with you,  
And I know that I'm wide open  
There isn't a part of me _

_that doesn't want to let you be_

_my favorite thing)))_

Roger had checked everywhere for Mark… The Life, Tompkins Park, The nearby cemetery...asking everyone in sight if they had seen a pale blonde man with thick rimmed glasses and a navy and white scarf. He was tired and cold but he refused to give up. What was it that detective and private eyes did? Returned to the scene of the crime, right. He would do the same, if nothing else to start the search over. Just as he was rounding the corner of 11th street on to Avenue B once more, he saw Mark staring up at the loft apprehensively, looking rather like a lost puppy. Roger grinned. Some things never changed. Mark looked just like the younger, much less scarred Roger Davis. Just staring up, eyes wide–wondering if this was the right step to take in his life. He remembered that night vividly. It was a blind choice between the safety of his parents and the predictable scolding he'd get if he went home, and the dazzling danger of Bohemia. Mark has slung an arm around his shoulder and simply said. "Welcome to paradise." before cocking his famous half grin and walking up the steps. Roger had smiled and followed.

Could that be what it was? That he saw himself in Mark? No. He saw himself -through- Mark. He was able to see the real him, the -complete- Roger only because of Mark Cohen. Mark showed him his innocence, the hope that was left inside himself.

Roger looked at his roommate and best friend. It had begun to snow; Mark looked so…-beautiful- with the snow falling of the darkness of his sweater, and his eyes so intent and focused on the home they shared. He no longer cared about what the consequences were; He needed to touch this angel. Just to remind himself that he wasn't dreaming. Mark was -home-. Mark came home to -him-.

Roger walked up behind the filmmaker, and slung an arm around his shoulder.

"Welcome back to paradise, Marky." Mark turned his face and gave Roger a soft, slight smile.

And then as lightly as the snow was falling around them, Roger pressed his lips to Mark's.

_(((And the view from where you send me  
Is so clear, I get so high  
I know that you, you can't free me,  
But I feel like I could fly_

_And all my walls are down  
Cuz my heart is open to the love I'm hoping you'll be for me  
And my pain is hidden by the light you've given to me  
Oh so, so free)))  
_  
Roger was kissing him. Roger Davis was kissing him.

_Oh my God._

Coherent thoughts vanished from Mark's head as he felt Roger's mouth delicately push against his own. Mark came to his senses and began to press back, his spine tingling as Roger pressed a calloused hand to hold is cheek and pull him closer. He leaned in to the warmth, and ran his fingers through Roger's hair. Roger placed a hand on the small of Mark's back, pushing him closer to the musician, and darted a tongue across the blonde's lower lip.

Mark pushed back suddenly, afraid of the understanding that had come to pass in the last minute. "Rog–"

"Mark–I should tel–" Roger began, but Mark cut him off.

"Roger, I'm sorry. I should te–"

"This is getting ridiculous." Roger grinned, "and I'm freezing my balls off."

Mark laughed, and donned a smile that lit up his whole face. "Loft?"

"Lead the way to Paradise, my good man."

_(((When I'm here with you,  
I can tell that we're wide open  
We could be anything,  
We don't have to answer to anyone)))  
_

Roger pulled Mark onto the couch, the intimate host of late night talks, breakdowns, and wrestling matches. The couch in the loft was the official referee, matchmaker, counselor and so much more. Collins used to laugh and say that the couch was the only adult in the house. It was part of the family. And now the familiar fabric embraced these two best friends.

"Mark,–"

"Roger–"

"No, let me go first, please? Sorry, Mark, I'm not very good at these sort of things." he rubbed his well-worn hand over his face and sighed. "I should tell you why I left. It was because I fell for you. I was trying to do what was right, I guess. Fuck, Mark." The musician took Mark's hand in his own. "I was so blind. I never even thought to ask, and I was so afraid that you wouldn't–"

"How long Rog? What about Mimi?"

"Since before Mimi. When you started dating Maureen–I sort of knew because I got really jealous. I just thought it was because it had only been us for so long. Mimi was–Mimi was sort of a really great friend. We had fun together…but we never…well we never…you know…"

"Had sex?" Mark grinned at Roger's bashfulness. Usually the rockstar used obscenities and innuendos just because he could.

"Yeah. It just didn't feel right…because…shit, this makes me sound like such a girl. Because it wasn't you. Even when we kissed, I sometimes found my mind…er… wandering…" a blush dusted both of the boho boys' cheeks.

"How about you, Marky?" Roger stretched out lazily on the couch. "How long have you been obsessed with the Rock God that is Roger Davis?"

Mark smiled. "If I say forever does that count? It was all I could do the night I brought you home to the loft not to have my way with you." he laughed. "I was in love with the devil-may-care rockstar before the drugs, and April, and the AIDS. The spark reignited the night of Maureen's protest, I guess, when I saw you as you were before. Happy and rebellious. My beautifully dangerous musician."

"Dangerous, eh?"

"Yeah…" Mark blushed.

"Like this?" Roger pulled Mark in for a searing kiss.

_Oh God, if this is the fire, let me burn. Let it consume me until there's nothing left, but the ash that the flame has touched. Let me be lost in this wicked clash of tongues and teeth and bruised lips and never be found. I want to drown in him._

When they broke apart Mark replied dazedly, "yeah, like that."

Roger let out a laugh before pulling Mark back.

"Wait–Rog? You aren't worried about this? What're we going to tell the others? Do you care? I mean, I never thought that you were–"

"Gay? I'm not. I don't care what people think about me. I'm Marksexual, and I'd scream that from the rooftops. I have you, who else matters? Fuck 'em."

And Roger met Mark's mouth once more with his own.

_(((Can you see the truth?  
There's a part of me that's hoping  
That I'll never be alone again  
That the game could be over,  
The search could be done_

And you see, when were together,  
There's a pull we can't deny  
I know that we may not be forever,  
But I feel like I could try)))

"Mark, are you sure you're okay with this? I mean…I'm not exactly the most…permanent lover. I mean, I have AIDS, Mark, and I'm going to–"

"Die? Roger, I know that. I know that in the end I'll be left alone."

"Mark–" 

"No. Listen. I'm okay with that. I want to be with you for forever. I know that isn't possible, and as much as I never want to be alone again, It isn't even an option to stop this, now. If I can't have you for my forever, I'll be with you for your forever." 

_(((And all my walls are down  
Cuz my heart is open to the love I'm hoping you'll be for me  
And my pain is hidden by the light you've given to me  
Oh so, so free_

I'll open myself to you completely  
Cuz I know it's more than right,  
I know that you, you can't free me  
Cuz I feel like I could die))) 

"Mark–I've got to be completely honest with you. I have never felt so…so wide open with anyone. I -want- to be open with you. I've never felt like that before." He met the filmmaker's eyes with his own. "I never thought I'd say this to anyone in my lifetime. I thought I'd…I'd die without finding someone to tell this to."

"Roger?"

"I love you, Mark Cohen.

"I love you too Roger."

_(((And all my walls are down  
Cuz my heart is open to the love I'm hoping you'll be for me  
And my pain is hidden by the light you've given to me  
Oh so, so free)))_


End file.
